


Take Me Fast, or Take Me Slow

by AngelWithAStory



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Drabble, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: Two hundred years after the Whispered One fell - two hundred years after the Fate-Touched Champion of the Raven Queen was reclaimed - the Voice of the Tempest stood on the highest peak of Zephrah.SPOILERS I GUESS





	Take Me Fast, or Take Me Slow

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I refuse to watch both ep 114 and 115 so sorry if some details are messed up bt i cAN'T DO IT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH
> 
> second disclaimer: i started writing this file over a month ago and since i finished 113 i just changed course and did this instead :/
> 
> thirdly: as i'm typing i am crying because the title is taken from Where We Go by P!nk which is such a vax song that oh go i'm crying again
> 
> EDIT: i realised literal months after I posted this (and after watching the last two episodes) that I messed up in the summary and the first line of the fic oops :/

Two hundred years after the Whispered One fell - two hundred years after the Fate-Touched Champion of the Raven Queen was reclaimed - the Voice of the Tempest stood on the highest peak of Zephrah.

Her tears had long stopped falling, but the ache in her heart had never ceased. Most days, it felt dull. Some days it even felt okay.

Today, it _burned_.

She looked down at the small markers she had placed high up on that mountain. Just simple slabs of stone with names and a symbol carved into them. These were not graves, these were offerings. Oh, the names still hurt to read but she still had to smile.

 _‘Vax’ildan’_ carved alongside a small, crude dagger.

That name still hurt. Her first love that burned so bright it consumed her and turned her into a star. A man so full of love that even death couldn’t stop him from protecting them one last time. Who gave his soul and his life for them time, and time again.

The bird skull in front of the marker had been left there from when Keyleth had placed the marker. She felt it was appropriate.

She knelt down and touched the marker gently.

She gave herself a moment to let the grief consume her before she turned to the next marker.

 _‘Grog_ ’ carved alongside a clenched fist.

How brave, how full of emotions, how _lovely_ that man had been in life. How caring, how funny, how full of life.

Even as he grew old and he allowed himself to settle down in safety. When he would watch over the small children of the city and teach the feisty ones how to fight and how to dodge and how to steal a cookie without anyone knowing.

His death had hurt in how unexpected it was.

He had died as he had lived; rage in his blood, a fire in his belly, protecting someone who could not protect himself.

They wanted to revive him, but he told them not to bother. He was old then, older than his father had been, probably older than his grandfather had been. He wanted to die in battle. It was a great honour. He loved them.

The Voice of the Tempest had put the marker up the next day, alongside the circlet he had worn since she met him.

The third marker was different, in that it was made out of a white stone far, far from that mountain.

 _'Percival'_ carved alongside a weapon unlike any the world had seen at the time of its creation. A weapon that had died in the world by now.

She let the grief overwhelm her for another moment, ignoring how the tears streamed down her face. Her brother, in everything but blood.

Percival’s death had hurt in how expected it was.

He was human. The _only_ human out of all of them. They all knew humans didn’t live as long as Gnomes, or even as long as half-elves.

But still, it was hard to watch Percival’s already white hair grow duller and somehow, _more_ silver as the lines on his face grew more pronounced. It was hard to watch as his hands would begin to shake and how he would drop his tools in the middle of a project.

His smile, and his laugh and his wit never wavered, but it was difficult to watch as the body slowly gave up on the mind within.

His last few weeks were tough. The surviving members gathered in Whitestone and no one really wanted to leave his side for too long. He complained, as he always did. But when the day came when his body gave up on him and they stood around his bed, but tried for a smile.

His wife and the love of his short life held his face, tears streaming down her face. She would still live for much longer. Their children would outlive the both of them, and they held each other as they cried.

 _"I don’t accept this."_ She had said, her voice cracking with grief.

 _“I do."_ Percival had said, reaching up and touching her face.

Then he let his eyes close and his hand fell to the sheets.

The voice of the Tempest looked away from the marker. The grief threatened to overtake her.

It took several long moments to pull herself back together, and before she could stop herself she looked at the next one.

The fourth marker was made of wood, not stone, and replaced when it began to rot.

 _'Vex’ahlia_ ’ carved alongside a bow and arrow.

Her sister, in every way but blood. Her confidant and her solid foundation. She was everything a person could look up to and she never failed to match, then exceed, those expectations.

Vex’ahlia hated growing older, and she resisted for long as she could.

Still, everything succumbs to time, and Vex’ahlia was no exception.  She left this world peacefully and every day that had passed, the Voice of the Tempest had thought back to the Blessed Fields of Elysium.

She thought how at home Vex’ahlia would be in an eternal forest. The Champion of Pelor, back in her eternal paradise. She deserved it.

Maybe Trinket found his way there as well.

The thought made her smile despite the tears staining her face.

Two rings had been placed in front of the last two markers. Their rings.

Side-by-side as they had been in life.

The Voice of the Tempest leaned back for a moment as she looked at the small shrines in front of her. Slowly, she reached into her bag and brought out a stone, a few feathers of different colours, and pendant on a thin chain.

She took her time in setting the marker into the mountain and placing the pendant in front of it. Despite the winds that snatched away her hair, the feathers didn’t move.

Finally, she wiped away the tears.

Keyleth stood. She looked the same as the first time she climbed to this very spot. The world, however, was a very different place.

After a few more moments, Keyleth sank down into the earth, leaving the markers as they were.

 

A curved pair of wings around a sun was carved on the stone beneath a name.

_‘Pike’_

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you're somehow braver than i am and finished the series, please no spoilers. if i get a detail wrong, don't tell me the correct way if it's a spoiler thank you <3
> 
> I'm [queenmoggy](http://queenmoggy.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to cry/shout at me


End file.
